Page 172 of Deep End

“Petrified, more like it,” I whisper. Another tear streaks down to my chin. “This is so messy.”

“Falling in love?”

I nod. “And I did it so . . .” Deeply, desperately, fast. It’s just pure violence.

“The ultimate loss of control, huh?”

I breathe deeply.

“But we’ve done this before,” he points out, patient, almost detached. “You’ve given up control. You’ve trusted me to take over.”

“And you never took advantage.”

“Nor will I. What else?” He drums his fingers on his bicep. “I assume you want us to be together?”

I nod again.

“That’s going to require some discussions. I have to make plans for my future. You have to make plans for yours. Let’s do that together, okay?” It all sounds so simple coming from his mouth. The alphabet. The most basic of arithmetic. Us, being in love.

“What about med school?” I ask, trying not to sniffle.

“There are a couple of ways to deal with that.” He’s clearly considered this. At length. “I could see if the schools that accepted me are willing to grant a one-year deferral. That way we could choose a place we’re both—”

“Lukas, no. You can’t waste a year just for . . .”

“Scarlett.” His fingers come up to my chin. Grab it gently, but tight. “The only time wasted is time we are apart.”

My heart might beat out of my chest.

“I could also keep my commitment to Stanford, if you’re interested in staying in California,” he continues casually. “We’d be together next year, while you finish up undergrad. And I have no doubt you’d get in the following year.”

“I just . . . I can’t ask you to make life decisions based on me.”

“That’s okay, because no asking is involved. Scarlett, this is it for me. I’m in.”

“But what if we start dating and we don’t work out?”

He seems to find the question hilarious. “We’ve been dating for nearly a year in everything but name. Weworktogether, in every possible way. Except the chaos you live in, but I can probably train that out of you. Punishments. Positive reinforcement.” He pushes my hair back. “You respond well to that kind of stuff.”

“But what if—”

“Scarlett,” he interrupts, a little less restrained. “Listen to me.The last few years, I did everything I could to be happy with someone else, and didnotmanage.” His hand slides down my arm, slowly. Long fingers twine with mine. “And then I spent the last few months trying not to fall for you, and failed so fucking miserably that—” He shakes his head. “This is it. I’m not going to pretend otherwise. No more lies.”

I frown. “Did you lie to me?”

“By omission.”

“What did you not tell me?”

“How early I fell for you. How soon I realized it. The enormity of it.”

I close my eyes, so overwhelmed, so intenselyfullof Lukas, that looking at him might be too much. “I thought you’d be angry at me. For being such a coward back at the NCAA.”

“Difficult to be angry at someone when their actions hurt them as much as they hurt me.”

I look away. Clear my throat. “Well, I . . . I guess we covered a lot of ground, but I should still say what I came to say. Which is . . . first of all, thank you. For the past couple of weeks. For giving me the space I needed to figure myself out and to get my shit together. I thought it was very nice of you to respect my wishes and . . .” His shoulders shake silently. “What?”

“Don’t betoograteful.” I’m being pulled into him. Thick arms. The width of his hand on my lower back. Lips to my temple, and his enveloping scent. “I have a plane ticket for St. Louis, two days from now. We’re going to have to change that, huh?”

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